


The Death Clause

by Kenophobia



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Dean Winchester Has Powers, Dean is Death, Gen, Immortality
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-20
Updated: 2021-02-07
Packaged: 2021-03-11 04:41:17
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 16
Words: 13,159
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28199304
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Kenophobia/pseuds/Kenophobia
Summary: When Dean kills Death it has some unintended consequences.
Comments: 19
Kudos: 65





	1. Past 1

**Past 1**

Everything was supposed to be fine. Normal. The Mark was gone, and with it all the anger and violence that had been flowing through Dean's system like high octane jet fuel pumped into a regular old minivan, energizing him but burning him out at the same time. It was as gone as if it had never been. 

It should have been a time to celebrate, a time for Sam and Dean to catch their breath before the next freaky mess came along. The spell had gone off without a hitch (blood sacrifice notwithstanding), no side effects, no cataclysmic evil unleashed upon the world, just a quick burning pain on Dean's arm and it was over. 

Cas let Rowena go. Sam and Dean drove home and almost immediately fell into their bunks. The next morning should have consisted of them sleeping in, eating a large and unhealthy breakfast, and not talking about hunting.  
Dean got the first part right at least. When he finally woke up the morning after the mark was removed, it was almost 10:30. The first thing he did rub the sleep out of his eyes with his knuckles, but when he did, he felt something cold and hard against his cheek, and when he brought his hand back down he saw a ring sitting inexplicably on his index finger. There had been a time in his life when this would not have been that unusual, he’d worn his mother’s wedding ring for years, before Sam pulled him aside one day and explained that he was getting too old to pull off the look. It had been years now since he’d worn jewelry of any kind, and it certainly didn’t seem likely that he could have somehow put this on in his sleep. 

The first thing he did, naturally, was try to remove the thing, but even though it appeared to fit him perfectly, he couldn’t move it past his knuckle. The next thing he did, was examine it. It was silver, with some kind of milky white stone set in it. It looked familiar. He tried again to pull it off his finger to get a better look but again the ring wouldn’t budge. 

A lifetime of hunting had made Dean virtually immune to panic, but at the very least, this turn of events certainly brought up his anxiety levels. It had to be some kind of spell or cursed object that had attached itself to him. Maybe something Rowena had cooked up in revenge for being held prisoner? In any case, it was time to get Sam and hit the books. 

*** 

An hour later Sam and Dean were sitting in the library simultaneously eating cereal and flipping through several large tomes on curses. Sam had agreed that the ring looked familiar but hadn’t been able to place it either. They both silently hoped that this really was just a run-of-the-mill curse and not something to do with the Mark. Completely absorbed in their reading and their breakfast, they were both unaware when a figure suddenly appeared in front of them. 

“Good morning” it said politely. Dean, ever hypervigilant, jumped so badly that he spilled frosted flakes on his 18th century volume of spell craft, causing Sam to glare at him. 

In front of them stood a young woman with a pretty face and short brown hair. Tessa the reaper nodded respectfully at them and waited patiently while Dean attempted to mop up the worst of the milk with the sleeve of his robe. 

“Tessa what are you doing here?” Sam asked, “and how did you even get in here, this place is warded against all supernatural creatures.” 

“Against Angels and Demons maybe, but I’m not bound by their rules. Wherever there is Death, I may enter." 

“Well there is no death here” Dean growled, not liking the implications of her statement. Besides, it occurred to him that only a day ago he had killed her boss. 

“Actually, that’s what I’m here to talk about. See, I thought I’d save you and Sam a few hours of tedious research and just explain it to you.” 

“You know what this is?” Dean asked holding up his right hand. 

“Yes, it’s a symbol of your new station.” 

“My what?” 

“Your new station. As Death.” 

As soon as the words are out of her mouth, Dean’s face started getting redder and Sam’s face got whiter. “That’s Death’s ring?” Sam asks. 

“Yes” Tessa said simply. 

“No, it’s not” Dean argued. “I remember that ring. This one is similar, I guess, but it’s not the same.” 

“Apparently it’s adjusted itself to its new owner.” 

Sam turned even whiter until his complexion started to resemble the stone on Deans finger. “Are you saying that Dean is . . .” 

“Dean is the new Death." 

“What are you talking about, that doesn’t make any sense” Dean finally protested obstinately. 

“What you did yesterday” Tessa said, a hint of anger showing through her mask of professionalism, “did you think there wouldn’t be any consequences? You killed Death with his own scythe, but Death must always exist. There needed to be a replacement and you’re it.” 

“But why me?” 

“I’m not entirely sure to be honest. You’ve worn the ring before, maybe it recognized you. Maybe that was even his intention in the first place when he made that silly bet with you, he was secretly appointing his successor. In any case, you’ve worn the ring, you’ve wielded the scythe, and now you’re Death. Or this could just be some kind of cosmic punishment for killing him." 

“Like in The Santa Clause” Sam mumbled. 

“What” Dean barked at him. 

“You know, the movie where that guy accidently kills Santa and then has to take his place.” 

“You’re comparing this to a Tim Allen movie?” 

Sam shrugged helplessly. 

“So, what if I say no?” Dean asked turning back to Tessa. 

“You can’t say no, and frankly us Reapers aren’t any happier about this than you are. So, you’re just going to have to suck it up and do the job.” With that said, Tessa gave a self-satisfied little nod and disappeared. 

*** 

Several hours later found the brothers still sitting in the library doing research, except this time the books in front of them weren’t focused on witches and curses but on Reapers and the four horsemen. Sometime around nine in the evening, Dean sighed heavily and closed his book with a slam. 

“We’re not getting anywhere Sam. I’m going to go for a drive, clear my head.” 

“Fine” Sam agreed. Dean had gotten better at the scholarly aspects of the job over the years, but he still didn’t have the same tolerance for sitting still for hours that Sam had developed at university. 

Sam was flipping through Revelations when he heard a rather unmanly shriek come from the garage and rushed to see what had happened. Dean was standing in the door of the bunker’s garage staring at the place where he usually parked the Impala, where another car was currently parked in its place. At least at first Sam thought it was another car, but when he looked a little closer, he recognized its sleek shape and leather seats. It was the Impala alright, except it had somehow been turned from coal black to a pearly off-white colour. 

“That’s it” said Dean. “They mess with me, it’s one thing. They mess with my Baby, now it’s really on.” 


	2. Present 1

**Present 1**

Sam chooses the most expensive and fastest courier option available to get the package as quickly and safely as possible, and since he can’t put the bunker down as his address, he picks it up from the post office as soon as he gets the call. Back at the bunker, he carefully unwraps it in the centre of the war room sets the oddly shaped rock on the table. The last time he did this, over a hundred years ago, he and Dean had stolen the fulgurite from a wealthy couple, but this time Sam had managed to purchase some online from a specialist dealer. It’s the final thing he needs to complete the ritual. 

The ritual to call and bind Death is a lot simpler than one would expect really. The crystallized lightning fulgurite is probably the most difficult ingredient to procure, other than that it’s a pretty standard candles and Latin summoning. The spell originally came from Crowley and Sam has always wondered where he got it and if he ever tried to use it for himself. He gave it to them back when Castiel had gone all evil god and he and Dean had been desperate enough to stop him that they had asked Death for help. Back then, it hadn’t quite worked out like they wanted, but this time would be different. Last time he had been trying to blackmail a primordial entity into assassinating a god. This time Sam just needed to have a chat with his brother.


	3. Past 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For those who are wondering, Tessa is alive in this story because her death in season 9 was really stupid and therefore I've chosen to ignore it. I have similar feelings about the series finale.

**Past 2**

Tessa showed up again at precisely 8:00 AM the next morning. 

“Good mo . . .” she started to say. 

“What did you do to my car?” Dean interrupted. 

“Your car?”

“Yes, my car? What, did you and all your Reaper buddies decide to sneak in and give her a paint job?”

“Of course not, but you should take the fact that your vehicle has changed colour as further evidence that this is inevitable. It turned pale, I assume?” 

“It turned into a douche-mobile. Is there any way to change it back?”

“Doubtful. You can’t fight this, Dean.”

“So, what now? Am I supposed to spend the rest of my life going around taping dead people on the shoulder like we did that one day?”

“No, of course not. That was mostly an educational exercise that the previous Death wanted you to engage in. Far too many beings die in a day for you to see to them all personally. The work of extracting souls is typically the responsibility of us Reapers. You are meant to oversee us.”

“And what happens if I just do nothing, does everybody stop dying?”

“No Dean, death is a force of nature, an unstoppable force. That force may be centered around you now, but it doesn’t need your express permission to act. Death is the default of all living things. I suppose if you wanted to, you could actively try to suppress it, stop death, but please don’t.”

Dean huffed a little and squirmed uncomfortably in his seat. He had spent basically his entire life trying to save as many lives as possible and now here was someone telling him that all he needed to do was will it so and no one would need to die again. No more Marys, no more Jos, or Bobbys, or Charlies. It should be simple, but it was anything but. Dean was practical enough to guess what would happen to the planet if no one ever died, and it wouldn’t be pretty. 

He was interrupted from his angst as Sam walked in from the hallway. Maybe there was one thing he could do. “Okay, listen up then, if I’m supposed to be your boss, then here’s your first order: Sam doesn’t die. No matter what happens, Sam does not die.”

“Understood” Tessa said immediately. She turned to look at the younger Winchester, “Congratulations Sam, you are now immortal.”

Sam, who hadn’t had his coffee yet, only blinked at her. 

There was a moment of awkward silence before it suddenly occurred to Dean to ask, “so, if you don’t actually need me to do anything, then what are you doing here anyways?” 

“I’m here to give morning report.”

“Morning report?” Sam asked, the academic side of his brain finally waking up. 

“Yes, every morning I will give you an account of all the beings that have died during the previous day. I was chosen for this task because of our prior relationship”, she gave a little frown at that last part. 

Dean laughed, “so, basically you’re my secretary.” 

“Among Reapers, the privilege of working directly with Death is considered to be a great honour” said Tessa although her expression demonstrated that she considered it to be anything but. “Now shut up and pay attention. The previous day saw the death of 28,956 aardvarks, 14,093 albatrosses, 56,202 alligators . . .

“Stop” said Dean, “what are you doing?”

“As I said, I’m giving you an account of everything that died the previous day. To simplify it for you I’m going in alphabetical order and only mentioning large categories of animals rather than individual species. For example, did you know that there are 22 different species of albatross?”

“And over 14,000 of them died yesterday?” Sam asked curiously.

“Yes, I’m afraid climate change is rather seriously affecting their population.”

“Stop” Dean said again slightly louder this time. “I don’t care about all this. How many people died yesterday?”

“If by people, you mean humans, the answer is 149,673” Tessa stated matter of factly. 

Dean looked slightly pale. “So many?”

“Actually, that’s slightly below average for the day. Now, if we could continue with animals, we still have to get through plants, fungi, bacteria, protozoa, and supernatural creatures.”

“You can’t be serious. How long is all that going to take?”

“Most of the day.”

“And you want to do this every day? I doubt the old Death spent all his time sitting around listening to you recite a zoology textbook.”

“The old Death instinctively knew all of this already. You probably could to if you felt like it, but it was decided that since you’ve so far been less than enthusiastic about your new position it would be better to give you the information directly. Now, picking up where we left off: 4,500,546,072 ants, 12,678 anteaters . . .”

Dean’s head hit the desk. 

***

The next few days passed tortuously slowly. Sam and Dean spent most of their time researching Dean’s new condition, as they called it, and trying to tune out Tessa’s constant lists of dead plants, animals, and everything else. There were a few interesting tidbits in there that Sam picked up on, for example, the number of dead demons each day strongly indicated that there were more active hunters in the world than either of them had ever guessed. Mostly, though, it was just noise, incessant, uninteresting, distracting noise. 

By day three, Dean was ready to gouge out his own ears with a rusty knife, but Tessa pointed out that as one of the most powerful beings in the universe he would just heal anyway. 

By day five, Sam and Dean had gone through every book in the library that could possibly be considered relevant and had failed to find any reference to a human taking on the mantle of Death. “That’s because it’s never happened before” explained Tessa unhelpfully.

By day eight, Dean suffered his inevitable breakdown. He was in the kitchen pouring himself a cup of coffee. Tessa’s latest recited death toll customarily ended sometime around two in the morning and for the last week, it had been impossible for Dean to get more than a few hours sleep. Dean glanced at his watch and sighed heavily, it was 7:59 and his torturer would be popping in any second now. Sam grimaced in sympathy, he’d tried to stick around and be supportive of his big brother but sometimes during the day he couldn’t resist sneaking off to his room for some peace and quiet. It didn’t matter where Dean went, Tessa just followed him around the bunker. At least, she had agreed to stand outside the bathroom door rather than follow him in and only continued her report at a slightly louder volume so as to be heard over flushing toilets and running water. 

Dean thudded down moodily in one of the kitchen chairs and wrapped both hands around his coffee. Seconds later Tessa appeared in front of them. “Good morning Dean” she gave her customary greeting before launching straight into it. “The previous day saw the death of . . . 

“twenty-six thousand and ninety-eight aardvarks” Dean yelled suddenly, drowning out whatever Tessa had been about to say. “I know exactly how many freaking aardvarks died yesterday, are you happy now?!?” 

Sam jerked his head around, startled by his brother’s outburst. He was even more surprised when Tessa gave a small nod of satisfaction. “That’s correct. Now can you tell me how many grey wolves died yesterday?” 

“Six thousand and two” Dean said as he rubbed his forehead wearily. 

“And humans? How many humans died?” Tessa asked gently. 

“One hundred and fifty-two thousand, four hundred and thirty-eight” Dean’s voice came out as a whisper. 

“Good” Tessa said softly as though she was speaking to a small child “and can you tell me what some of their names were?”

“Ridwana Chadwick, Conrad Gerhard, Amrit Das, Yoriko Miyamoto” Dean’s voice faltered and a single tear ran down his cheek, “Tyson Okorie, Lauren Guppy . . .”

“That’s enough Dean” Tessa said gently and placed her hand on his shoulder as he buried his face in his hands, probably trying to hide how upset he was. 

Sam watched dumbstruck. Partly because Dean usually only cried if the world was ending and partly because Dean somehow knew things it should have been impossible for him to know. Yes, Tessa had been telling them for over a week that Dean was now Death, but this was the first time he had displayed any actual Death-like characteristics and Sam couldn’t help but be a little unnerved. The previous Death had been a creepy old guy with a cane who had been able to do impossible things like pulling Sam’s soul from hell or opening the door to purgatory and try as he might Sam just could not reconcile his image of his brother with that persona.

“You’ve done well, Dean” Tessa said. “I’ll be back when you’re ready for the next step” and with that she disappeared.


	4. Present 2

**Present 2**

After Sam completes the ritual, Dean doesn’t appear with any kind of flickering lights or melodramatic lightning strike like Sam thought he might. Instead Sam simply turns around and finds his brother at his old spot at the table with his feet up next to a pile of old books and it’s like being transported back in time. Dean is leaning back in his seat casually, but his eyes are hard and wary. Part of Sam had wondered if his brother would have taken up wearing all black robes or something but apparently he’s decided to stick with flannel and jeans. Of course, since fashion has changed somewhat over the intervening time, Dean now looks as though he’s stepped from the pages of a history book. Sam smooths the legs of his own tightly woven mesh coveralls and tries not to think about how much time has passed. 

“Dean?” he asks.

Dean turns to look directly at him for the first time, and as he moves, Sam can see a thin glimmer of chain connecting his wrists, binding him. “Sam. What the fuck do you think you’re doing?”


	5. Past 3

**Past 3**

Both Sam and Dean breathed a sigh of relief when 8 o’clock rolled around the next morning and no Grim Reapers suddenly popped into existence in their kitchen. They proceeded to go about their business, not mentioning the previous day, and determined to behave as normally as possible. Normal for them however, was not particularly normal, and so it wasn’t surprising that as Sam scrolled through the morning news on his tablet, he came across a potential case. 

“So, get this” he said without looking up. “A group of university kids died under suspicious circumstances while partying in some cabin they rented in Linnden Park, Colorado. 

Dean made a sound halfway between a thoughtful hmm and a grunt which Sam knew was his cue to continue. 

“Apparently, the four of them rented this cottage for the weekend. It had recently been reopened after the owner renovated it to rent out to vacationers, before that it had been empty for years.”

“Very Cabin in the Woods. How’d they die?”

“The article doesn’t really say, just mentions that the police think violence may have been involved.”

“Does it say any of their names?”

“Yeah, let’s see. Jamie Geller, Chris Atler, Shelby Lee, and Simon Holt.”

Dean stared ahead of them, not closing his eyes, but seeming to zone out for a moment. “Jamie and Simon were stabbed, Chris had his throat slit, and Shelby’s head was bashed in. They were terrified Sam.”

Sam swallowed uncomfortably. “So, you just know this?”

“Yeah, apparently.”

“Can you tell what killed them?”

Dean sighed. “No, that would be too useful.”

“That’s okay. I think I’ve got a pretty good idea actually. Turns out back in the fifties the cabin used to be owned by this guy who lived there with his daughter. Real paranoid hermit type, tried to keep as much away from other people as possible, so when his daughter wanted to leave to get married, he murdered her. He ended up getting the death penalty.”

“So, are we dealing with his ghost or hers?” Dean asked. 

“Won’t know until we get over there I guess.”

***

Dean grumbled as they got into the recently revamped Impala, but she still ran as well as ever. In fact, as they headed west towards Colorado, they noticed that the gas gauge didn’t move at all, seemingly remaining continually at full. 

“Great. She’s probably running on the souls of the damned or something” Dean complained. 

“Do you want to talk about it?” Sam asked cautiously. 

“About what?”

“This whole thing going on with you and Tessa, and what Tessa is saying” Sam danced around is awkwardly. 

“No.”

“Just no? Dean, this isn’t just going to go away on its own. If Tessa is telling the truth then we need to be prepared for what’s going to happen next and if she’s not, then we need to figure out what’s going on with you.”

Dean sighed. “She’s telling the truth, Sam” he said simply, “I can tell.”

***

They arrived at the cabin in record time and found the place abandoned. Apparently, the local cops hadn’t even bothered to post someone to watch the crime scene and all they needed to do was step over some police tape as they headed through the door. 

Inside the floor was covered with blood stains and evidence markers and their EMF detector went off almost immediately. 

“Here we go” Dean said, putting away the detector and pulling out his shot gun. They both stuck close to the door, ready to leave at a moment’s notice. All they needed to do was get a good enough look at the ghost to figure out its identity and then they were out of there. They didn’t need to wait long before the temperature dropped suddenly, and something began to coalesce in the middle of the room. 

For some reason women always seem to make creepier ghosts than men, thought Sam as the murdered daughter appeared before them, looking pretty murderous herself. 

“So, it’s the daughter then” Dean murmured as he raised his shotgun and fired into her chest, dispersing her. “Any idea where she’s buried?” 

“No, we’ll have to do some more research” Sam replied. Dean’s customary complaint about research was cut off when the front door of the cabin slammed shut with a bang. 

“Shit! How is she back so soon?” asked Dean. 

“It wasn’t her” Sam answered as they were faced with a second ghost, the father presumably. This ghost may have been less creepy looking than his dead daughter, but he was faster off the mark. Before either hunter could fire off a round, it raised its hand and slammed them both into a wall. A few seconds later the daughter flickered back into existence as well to assist with her father’s mission to keep the Winchesters pinned like bugs to the wall. Dean strained against the invisible bonds trying to reach the packet of salt stashed in his pocket. He almost had his fingers around it when Tessa suddenly appeared beside the ghosts. 

“What in Hell are you doing?” she asked, looking at Dean with disgust.

“Fighting a ghost” Dean growled back at her, “maybe you’d like to help.”

“You’re Death and you’re being overpowered by a couple of ghosts? That’s pathetic” she admonished him. “Your predecessor would have blasted them into Hell with a mere thought and you can’t even get yourself down off that wall.”

“I’m working on it” said Dean, fumbling for his salt. 

Tessa stepped directly in front of him, ripped it from his grasp and Dean wondered balefully why neither of the ghosts were going after her. “You’re working on it the wrong way. You don’t need cheap tricks anymore; you just need to focus.” 

“Focus?” 

“That’s right. Focus on their energy, then find your own.”

Dean rolled his eyes but then obediently closed them. Sam watched uncomfortably as a look of concentration furrowed his brother’s brow. It reminded him too much of how it felt to try and tap into his own powers. It must have worked though because after only a few seconds Sam felt a sudden lurch and both he and Dean were dropped to the floor. 

Dean strode forward, suddenly seeming totally unconcerned by the two ghosts. They were nothing; why should he fear them? He approached the daughter first. 

“Grace Parker” he started talking directly to her. “You aren’t as innocent as everyone thinks, are you? You helped your father kill your fiancé, just like you helped him kill all the others before. Too bad for you that last one fought back and took you with him. And you” he turns to the father, “Joshua Parker, you’re a Grade A sicko, aren’t you? Training your daughter to seduce and murder men so she could claim their money. I’m afraid it’s Hell for both of you.” With that, Dean makes a motion with his hand like he’s shooing a fly and both ghosts disappear. 

Sam watched his brother warily, wondering what he was going to do next. Dean looked over at him, “well, I guess that will save us some digging” he said.


	6. Present 3

**Present 3**

“It’s okay” Sam speaks quickly, trying to calm the primordial power sitting in front of him. “I’ll let you go soon. I just need one thing first.” Dean doesn’t even glare at him, just stares coldly and Sam thinks that maybe he doesn’t look exactly the same as before after all. Sam takes a deep breath and then comes out with it. “I want you to kill me” he says.


	7. Past 4

**Past 4**

Sam spent most of the drive home worrying about Dean. He had never seen his brother look like he had back in that cabin, and it scared him. When Dean had had the Mark of Cain it had been like his entire system was burning too hotly, full of rage and power, but when he had banished those ghosts he had been completely cold and passionless, neither of which were words that Sam ever thought he would associate with his brother. 

Now though, Dean seemed to be back to his normal self, grumbling about the Impala’s new look and finding the greasiest burger joint he could for them to stop for dinner at. Maybe Sam was worrying for nothing. 

***

When they got back to the bunker, Castiel was there waiting for them. 

“Cas? Where have you been?” Dean asked, greeting his friend exuberantly. 

“My apologies for my unexplained absence. I was in Heaven.”

“Heaven? Why did you go there?” Sam asked. 

Cas swallowed uncomfortably, “among other things I wanted to check on Charlie.”

The mood instantly darkened. “And was she okay?” asked Sam. 

“She has settled in. She is not angry with either of you. In fact, she insisted that I return to earth to make sure the spell worked.”

“It worked” Dean replied pushing his right sleeve up to show Cas his forearm. “Are you sure she’s okay? It’s just I was thinking we should probably try to bring her back.”

Cas looked at Dean with sympathy, clearly sensing his guilt. “I’m sorry Dean but you know that both myself and Heaven are much weaker than we once were. It is beyond my current abilities to resurrect her.”

“I wasn’t talking about you. I was talking about me.”

“You?” Cas questioned and turned his gaze more carefully to Dean, after a moment of careful study he must have discerned something outside of the human plane because his blue eyes widened, and he took a step back in surprise. “What happened to you?” he almost whispered. 

“Why? What do you see?” Sam demanded but Cas ignored him and continued staring at Dean. 

“I killed Death and apparently now I’m supposed to replace him” Dean answered with a shrug of his shoulders, before launching into the long version. By the time he finished catching Cas up, the Angel had finally managed to tear his gaze away and was staring into space instead. 

“Do you know what this means?” Sam asked him. 

“No. I was not yet created when Death came into existence and I did not expect that anything would ever end him. I am as surprised by this as you are.”

“Well, it’s good to have you back anyways” Dean said, trying to be reassuring but Castiel’s face only fell even further. 

“I wish it were otherwise” he started, “but I only came to tell you that I have to stay in Heaven for a while.”

“You’re leaving? Why?” Sam asked. 

“The situation in Heaven is dire. Many Angels were lost in the Fall and the ensuing civil war. There are less than a score of us left. Even with all of us present, Heaven is barely being maintained. Now that I have my Grace back and Dean is free of the Mark, I must return there. If Heaven falls, then all of the billions of souls that reside there will plummet back down to Earth.”

Sam and Dean shared a look. They could imagine all too well what kind of chaos that would cause. “We’re going to miss you, buddy” said Dean. 

“I will miss you as well, but for the time being, this is how things have to be.”

***

After Cas left, they both felt the need for a stiff drink and soon they were sitting in the library with a bottle of whiskey between them. 

“So, what now?” Dean asked. 

Sam sighed. He was tempted to say that they should carry on as usual and ignore what was happening but his more mature side prevailed. 

“We need to figure this out and since it’s pretty obvious we’re not going to find anything in books, we’ve got to move on to primary research.”

“Primary research?” Dean echoed. 

“We test you; figure out what you can do.”

So, I’m playing guinea pig?” Dean asked, tugging self-consciously at his ring. 

“Sort of” Sam answered. 

“Okay, then” said Dean, getting up. “Let’s get started.”

‘Now?” Sam complained. “it’s almost midnight and we just got back from a hunt.” 

“Why, not? Come on nerd, give me a test.”

Sam rubbed his forehead, wishing he could just crawl into bed. “I don’t know. Why don’t you try teleporting or something?”

“Teleporting?”

“Yeah, most higher-level supernatural beings can do it. Just jump yourself to the kitchen.”

Dean looked dubious for a moment but seemed to be willing to try it. He stared ahead of him, took a deep breath, and disappeared. There was a sudden crash followed by the sound of swearing coming from the kitchen. Sam groaned and headed to his room to get some sleep. 

***

By the time Sam got up the next morning, he’d managed to regain some of his academic curiosity and he was all ready to give Dean another challenge. Dean himself had spent the entire night getting the hang of teleporting. Sometime around 2:00 AM he had stopped crashing into things and at 8:00 AM he was amazed to find that he didn’t even feel tired. 

When Sam walked into the kitchen, Dean had a pile of pancakes waiting for him. “Sorry for ditching you last night” Sam said. 

“No big. I was busy with the homework you gave me anyway.” 

“And how’s it going?” Sam asked. 

“Pretty well. I even got you a present.”

“A present?” Sam asked, confused. 

“Yeah, see I was making breakfast and I realized we didn’t really have any fruit in the place, which I know makes you grumpy. So, I was going to drive over to the store to get some, but then I thought, why not just jump myself there instead, and then I thought, if I’m going to do the whole x-men thing anyways, I might as well go somewhere better than the local two-aisle grocery.”

“What are you getting at Dean?”

“I got you this” Dean said, shoving a full paper grocery bag into his arms.

Sam rooted around in the bag pulling out a pineapple, papaya, and even a few fruits he didn’t recognize. “Where on earth did you get all this?” he asked. 

“At this little farmer’s market I found in Hawaii.”

“You went to Hawaii?” Sam exclaimed. “When?”

“Like I said, just a few minutes ago” Dean answered. 

Sam wasn’t sure whether to be touched that Dean put in the effort for him or concerned that a quick trip around the world didn’t seem to have taken much effort at all. “Well, since you’ve clearly mastered that, then I guess we move onto something new today” he said, choosing to play it cool.

“New like what?” Dean asked as he set a plate down in front of Sam. 

“I have to go out and get something today” Sam answered, “I’ll tell you after that.”

“Alright then, if you insist on being secretive.”

Sam took a bite of fresh papaya and didn’t say anything. He knew that Dean wasn’t going to like what came next. 

***

When Sam got back from his errand, he found Dean sitting with his laptop watching Monty Python and determinedly ignoring Tessa who was lurking in the background making snarky comments. Dean looked up as he entered. “Sammy, good, you’re here. Maybe now she can annoy you for a few minutes instead of me.”

“I don’t think it works that way” Sam said. 

“It certainly doesn’t” Tessa confirmed. “This is your responsibility, Dean.”

Dean sighed heavily and slammed down the top of his laptop. “And what is it that you want me to do exactly?” 

“Behave with some dignity to begin with.” 

Dean sent her a quick glare but then seemed to decide that ignoring her would be the best option. “What have you got in the bag, Sam?” he asked. 

Sam pulled his purchase out of the bag like a magician pulling a rabbit from a hat and held the clear plastic cage up for Dean to see. 

“What is it?” Dean asked. 

“It’s a guinea pig” Sam told him. 

Dean sighed again. “Look Sam, if you really wanted a pet, I wish you could have at least talked to me about it first.”

“It’s not for me” Sam explained. “It’s for you, for your training.”

“Training?” Tessa inquired from where she was still lurking in the background. 

“Yes, training” Sam said grumpily. “Since you don’t seem particularly inclined to help us with anything useful, we’re having to figure it out ourselves.”

“How am I supposed to train him?” Tessa asked indignantly. “He’s supposed to be my boss. That would be like asking a secretary to train the CEO in how to run his company.”

“Hah! So, you admit you’re my secretary” Dean said latching onto Tessa’s unfortunately chosen simile. 

“Besides” Tessa continued, deciding to ignore the jab. “I figured if you two morons keep putting yourselves in life and death situations as you always seem to do, that he’ll get the hang of things sooner or later.”

“None of this explains why you got me a guinea pig” Dean said, trying to cut back to the point.

“You’re going to kill it” Sam told him. 

“What? Why would I do that?” Dean exclaimed and Sam smiled faintly in amusement that his tough-guy older brother still balked at the idea of hurting an animal. 

“Because you need to figure out how to do these things. But don’t worry, after you kill it, you’re going to bring it back.”

“Bring it back” Dean echoed. 

“You need to figure out how to do that too” Sam said confidently but then turned to look at Tessa. “He can do that, right?”

“He can” she confirmed. 

“Okay, but why exactly can I do that?” Dean asked. “I thought I was supposed to be Death not Life.”

“That’s true” she agreed. “I imagine you wouldn’t be able to create a new life or anything like that. You’re not God. But you do have complete mastery over death and that includes reversing it.”

“But it’s . . . so small” Dean protested, gazing at the guinea pig. “Can’t I just practice my weird death powers on the next demon we run across or something?”

“Are you going to resurrect the demon again after?” Sam challenged him, “because bringing things back to life sounds like a skill worth practicing.”

“Fine” Dean huffed and Sam watched him try to gather his macho persona as he scooped the guinea pig out of it’s cage and held it in front of him in both hands. “What is it exactly that I’m supposed to do now?”

“Whatever you want” Tessa answered. “There are a million ways to kill something. Choose whichever one you want.”

“And which on is, you know, the quickest?” Dean asked. 

Tessa stepped forward and rested a hand on Dean’s shoulder. “Can you feel it’s life?” she asked. “It’s in the palm of your hand, literally and figuratively.”

“I can feel it” Dean confirmed, and Sam felt a flash of unease as he wondered if Dean could sense his life the same way. 

“Then all you have to do is extinguish it” Tessa said. 

Dean nodded brusquely and blinked and in that millisecond as his eyes closed and opened, the guinea pig died. Dean stared at the dead thing sitting in his hands. “Now what?” he asked. 

“Now bring it back” Sam prodded him.

Dean nodded nervously and closed his eyes for longer this time, concentrating hard. Reversing death seemed to take him more effort than causing it but it was still only the work of a moment and the guinea pig stirred in his hands. “Well then” said Dean, “that just happened.”


	8. Present 4

**Present 4**

Part of Sam had hoped that when he told Dean that he wanted to die it would shock his brother into some kind of emotional display. Maybe he’d hug him, or call him Sammy, or even punch him in the face. Anything would have been better than the completely neutral look of contemplation currently aimed in his direction. 

“And why” asks Dean “would you want that?”

Sam launches immediately into his pre-prepared impassioned argument. “Because I’ve lived the life you wanted for me. More than one of them. I’ve been a hunter, a lawyer, a husband, a father, a grandfather. I’ve done it Dean and it was good. Thank you for giving me the time to do that. But I’m done now. Hell, the world doesn’t even really need hunters anymore. Eileen died a long time ago. My family is so many generations removed from me that I’ve lost track of most of them completely. I’m done.”

“What makes you think that you get to be done?” Dean asks. 

“Because” Sam answers, mildly confused by the question, “everyone is done eventually.”

“Not me” says Dean matter of factly. “I won’t get to be done until the stars burn out and the universe collapses back in on itself.” Sam tries to interrupt but Dean keeps going. “You say you’ve lost track of your family, but I haven’t. I know exactly where each of your descendants are at all times and the ones who’ve passed on, I escorted personally to heaven.”

“You did?”

“It was nice to be able to meet them.” 

Sam closes his eyes wearily, wishing he could have been there for some of those meetings. His oldest son, Rob, had reminded him so much of Dean that it had been painful. He used to daydream about how well the two of them would have gotten along, bonding over their mutual love of classic rock and fast food. Dean would have loved being an uncle, he used to say to himself. 

Sam pulls himself out of his reminiscing. The older he gets, the more easily he gets caught in the past, his accumulated years each a stone pulling him further underwater and away from the present. 

“Thank you for that” he says sincerely, “but if you did that for them, then why won’t you give me the same gift?”

Dean appears to be considering for a moment, but to Sam’s disappointment, he dodges the question. “I’ll make you a deal” he says instead. “I’ll give you what you want but you have to do something for me first.”

“I don’t have to do anything” Sam argues, “I have you bound.”

“True” concedes Dean, “but after you die, your little spell will be broken. Then you’ll be in my power and I could do anything I wanted with you. Resurrect you, keep you as a ghost, I could even throw you back in the cage.”

“You wouldn’t” says Sam, not wanting to believe that it’s really Dean saying these things to him. 

“Are you sure about that?” Dean asks. 

Sam isn’t. “Fine then, what do you want?”

“I want you to come with me for the day.”

“What?” Sam asks, confused. “You mean like that time you had to play death for a day?”

“No, Sam. I don’t want you to be me, I just want you to come with me. Think of it like a take your little brother to work day.”

“Why?” Sam asks suspiciously. 

“Because that’s what it’s going to take for you to get what you want.”

“Just one day?”

“Twenty-four hours starting now.”

“Deal” says Sam.


	9. Past 5

**Past 5**

After his brief career as a test subject was over, Howard the guinea pig became a permanent fixture on the war room table. 

“But what are we going to do when we go on our next hunt?” Sam asked. “It’s not like we can just ask the neighbors kid to pop in and feed him once a day.”

“Won’t be a problem” Dean reminded him, “we can just teleport back and feed him ourselves. In fact, we’ll probably never need to stay in another crappy motel ever again.”

That next hunt came sooner rather than later when Sam dug up a report on the internet about a fourteen-year-old murder victim who had been found with multiple gruesome injuries suggesting she had been tortured before her death. 

“It could definitely still have been a human” Sam qualified after telling Dean about the potential case. “I figure I’ll do a bit more digging into it online before we make the drive all the way out there.”

“You got a name?” Dean asked. “Or a picture?”

“Yeah” Sam answered, turning his laptop so Dean could see. “This is her school picture from this year.”

Dean barely glanced at it before nodding confidently. “Yep, that was a demon killing alright.”

“You can tell that easily?” Sam asked. “You couldn’t on our last hunt.”

Dean shrugged. “I guess I’m getting better. Come on, we should be able to wrap this up pretty quickly.”

Sam felt his brother’s hand on his shoulder and the next thing he knew he was trying not to stumble as he found himself transported halfway across the country. “Where are we?” Sam asked, looking around at the linoleum flooring and high sterilized tables. 

“Brockville County morgue” Dean answered him. Dean strode up to the wall of metal drawers housing the facility’s dead and drew one open without stopping to read the name printed on the outside. Sure enough, the drawer pulled out to reveal the corpse of the young teenager whose picture Sam had been looking at less than a minute ago. Sam tried not to look at the gruesome injuries that now covered her body, evidence that she did not die quickly. 

Dean placed his hand on her forehead and closed his eyes. “Dean, what are you doing?” Sam asked, suddenly nervous. His brother ignored him and kept his attention focused on the girl. The girl whose eyes suddenly flew open with a scream. 

Sam started back, suddenly wishing that he had his gun with him. “Shh, calm down” Dean tried to quiet the girl. “You’re fine, calm down.” 

It only partially worked; the girls stopped screaming but continued to sob. “Where am I? Please, it hurts, please” she moaned. 

“Dean” Sam said, speaking loudly to be heard over the newly resurrected victim. “do something!”

“Like what?” Dean asked looking just as freaked out as Sam felt. 

“I don’t know. Can’t you heal her or something?”

“I don’t know how to do that” Dean said with a hint of panic. 

“Kill her” a voice suddenly spoke from across the room and Sam and Dean turned to find Tessa, freshly appeared and looking harried.

“I’m not going to kill her” Dean argued. “She’s fourteen and I just brought her back. She can go home as soon as she calms down.”

“Dean, you just pulled a soul out of heaven, a soul that had been tortured for days, and stuck her back in her injured body inside a morgue. She’s traumatized and she doesn’t belong here anymore. You have to kill her.”

Dean looked at Tessa with a mixture of shock and desperation. “No” he said, “I can’t do that.” The girl chose that moment to go back to screaming and Sam wondered how long they had before some kind of security showed up. Dean hesitated a moment more before giving in. “Fine” he said and in that moment the girl’s screaming died off and her soul slipped back out of her body. 

Dean turned and faced the wall and Sam stepped forward to try to comfort him, but Tessa beat him to it. “You’re not just a hunter anymore, Dean” she told him, “your job isn’t to save everyone.”

When Dean turned back around, his eyes were red and watery, but mostly he looked angry. “Sam, I’ll drop you back off at the bunker.” 

“What? Where are you going?”

“I’m going after the demons.”

“Alone? Do you even know how many there were?” Sam asked, trying to reason with his brother. 

“You misunderstand me. I’m not just going after the demons that did this, I’m going after all of them.”

Sam didn’t even know how to begin to respond to that. 

“Are you sure you want to do that?” Tessa asked, not for a second questioning whether or not Dean could do it. “Demons are one of the few predators that humans have left. You need predators to maintain balance in the ecosystem.”

“I don’t give a fuck” Dean answered. “They’re not predators. Lions don’t go out of their way to bring pain to the animals they kill. Demons cause nothing but misery and I’m not putting up with them anymore, not now that I can finally do something about it.”

Sam opened his mouth but Dean didn’t give him any more time to protest. He clapped him on the shoulder and sent him back to the bunker. Then he got to work. He went after the demons that killed the girl, Stephanie, first. There were three of them and they were only a couple of towns over. When he teleported into the room they were staying in, all three of them jumped to their feet in surprise. 

“Do you know who I am?” he asked them.

“Winchester” one of them hissed, flashing black eyes at him. 

“Wrong” he said, “I am Death.” 

The three demons blinked out of existence.


	10. Present 5

**Present 5**

“So where are we going?” Sam asks, wondering what it is exactly that Dean does with his time. He remembers Tessa telling them years ago that the reapers did most of the day-to-day work. What did that actually leave for Death to do?

“I have a meeting” Dean answers. 

“A meeting?” Sam wonders aloud. He tries to picture some sort of cosmic corporate boardroom with Dean in a suit, in front of a bunch of reapers, outlining his vision for the company. 

“With the ambassadors” Dean clarifies without actually making anything clearer. Dean doesn’t even bother to tap Sam on the forehead like Cas used to do. He just starts off walking and when Sam takes a step to follow, he finds himself stepping onto the outdoor patio of a beachside restaurant with the sun beating down on him and waves crashing in the background. 

Sam looks down and finds that instead of his normal clothes, he’s now wearing a retro style Hawaiian shirt and shorts. Dean’s outfit has changed similarly and Sam notes that the only thing missing from their overly tacky ensembles are the flower leis. “Where are we?” he asks. 

“Hawaii” Dean answers, his tone suggesting that this should be painfully obvious. 

“What are we doing here?”

“I told you already, I have a meeting.”

“He likes to have them in different places every time” a gruff voice explains from behind him. 

Sam turns around to see another person who he hasn’t seen in over a century. “Cas!” he gasps, almost not believing it. “I thought you were still in heaven.”

“I am most of the time, but as Heaven’s official ambassador to Earth, I’m also the only one allowed to leave.” Cas walks over and takes a seat at one of the tables, opposite Dean, before turning back to Sam. “It’s good to see you again Sam. How have you been?”

Sam does his best not to be thrown by the casualness of the greeting. “I’d be doing better if I understood what’s going on here” he says. 

Dean studiously ignores him and stares out towards the ocean, but Cas takes pity. “Once a year” he begins to explain, “Dean holds meetings with representatives from the other realms. It was part of the agreement he made with our leaders when he demanded that all demons and all angels must leave Earth for good.”

Sam turns and looks at his brother. “I didn’t know you’d done that.”

“What did you think?” Dean asks, still not looking at him, “that all the demons just decided to pack up and leave one day?”

_You did,_ Sam thinks but doesn’t say it, then he wonders uncomfortably if Dean can read his mind. “The demons I get” he says instead, “but why force the angels out too?”

“They caused just as much trouble on Earth as the demons did” Dean answers with a brief guilty glance at Cas. “You should remember that. Besides, neither group belongs here, not really. That’s why they can’t even function on this plane without vessels. Everyone’s better off if we all stick to our own side of the fence.”

Sam opens his mouth to reply but before he can he’s interrupted by the sudden appearance of a smarmy looking man in formal wear who arrives in a puff of sulphuric smoke. “Sorry I’m late” the newcomer apologizes insincerely as he pulls up a chair. Sam doesn’t need to be told that this must be Hell’s ambassador, he looks exactly like the kind of guy that would work for Crowley. “Who’s the human?” he asks, gesturing towards Sam. 

“That’s Sam” Dean answers like this is all the explanation that anyone could possibly need. “Sam, this is Kipling.”

“Ah the famous Sam Winchester” Kipling says, scrutinizing Sam closely. “I thought you’d retired.”

“I have” says Sam, although he can’t deny that being in the presence of a demon for the first time in a century is making his fingers itch for a blade. 

“Enough” said Dean, “let’s get on with this already.” Castiel and Kipling both turn to him immediately, giving him their full attention. “We had 67 million human deaths in the last year, that’s an increase of 1.2% from the year previous. Of those, 78% of the souls were claimed by Hell and the remaining 22% by Heaven.”

“An unacceptable disparity” Cas comments.

“You’re the ones who set the admissions criteria Cas, not me” Dean points out. “Also, in the last year, four demons managed to make their way to Earth and had to be destroyed. This is within the acceptable margin of error for containment, as per my agreement with Crowley.” 

“You know,” starts Kipling “you’d have less of a population problem if you let more of us through.”

Dean glares at him “you let me worry about the population. Your only job is to be Crowley’s little messenger boy. Now, get going. We’re done here.” 

The Demon must sense a change in Dean’s mood because it’s smarminess turns suddenly to fear and then it disappears.

Dean turns back to starring at the ocean. 

“Are you alright Dean?” Castiel asks. 

“Why wouldn’t I be?”

Castiel reaches out a hand and takes hold of the chain twined loosely around Dean’s wrists. “Kipling wasn’t powerful enough to see this, but I am” he says. “Who bound you?”

“Who do you think?” Dean says, jerking his head in Sam’s direction. 

“Of course,” Cas says, smiling fondly, “only a Winchester would be stupid enough to think they could get away with summoning Death.” He looks between the two of them and for a moment Sam thinks he’s about to say something else, but then he seems to change his mind. “I’ll leave the two of you to it then” and with a flap of his wings, he’s gone. 

Dean finally turns back to look at Sam but only long enough for him to zap them to a new location. Now instead of a soft wood patio, Sam’s feet make contact with shiny linoleum. He feels the hot sun beating down on his back and cries of pain echo from every direction, but none of these is the thing that he notices first. That would be the smell. It’s the nauseating stench of decaying flesh, feces, and antiseptic. It smells like death.


	11. Past 6

**Past 6**

After Dean finished ripping his way through every demon he could find locally (and he could find all of them) he decided to step up his game. It was time to go after the big fish. 

When he teleported himself directly into Crowley’s throne room, the little demon jerked up so suddenly that he almost fell out of his seat. 

“Squirrel?” he asked, “how did you get in here?” He looked around at his minions, “did someone leave the door open?” 

“I’m here to kill you” Dean informed him, “all of you.”

“Are you now?” Crowley teased, “and exactly how do you plan on doing that?”

“Oh, I don’t imagine it will be very difficult.” 

“Get him” Crowley commanded, flicking his fingers dismissively at some minions. 

Three demons broke off and charged at him, Dean let them come. They moved to grab him but the instant their fingers made contact, they crumbled into piles of dust. The meatsuits had been dead already anyway. 

Crowley looked at him again, with slightly more interest this time. “Picked up a new trick, have you? What is it, some kind of charm? Is Moose hiding around the corner chanting in Latin?”

“No tricks” Dean answered. “This is the end for you Crowley. We’ve tolerated you for long enough; you’re not going to be able to weasel your way out of this one.”

“That so?” Crowley asked, pushing out with his hand like he was trying to stop a bus. Dean felt the wave of telekinetic power hit him, but it had no effect. 

Dean made a gesture, echoing Crowley’s, and sent his own wave of power crashing into the remaining minions lined up against the walls of the throne room. All of them were disintegrated before they could voice so much as a single scream. 

“That ring” Crowley said fearfully, staring at Dean’s still outstretched hand. 

“Recognize it?” Dean asked. 

“How did you get it?” Crowley demanded with growing panic. “Did he lend it you? Did he send you here to kill me?”

“He’s dead.” 

Crowley’s eyes widened and although he was clearly terrified, he still tried to puff himself up. “I see, so there’s a new sheriff in town, eh Squirrel? What’s your plan here exactly?”

“My plan is to kill you and then to kill every other slimy demon that I can find on the face of the planet.”

“And then what? There’s an endless supply of demons in Hell. More will come and someone new will set themselves up as the new head honcho, probably someone worse.”

“I’m Death, I’ll destroy all of Hell if I have to.”

Crowley laughed. “Someone’s getting a bit big for his britches, I think. You’re not God, Dean. Hell is part of the natural order of the universe, even you can’t destroy that.”

Dean frowned, pausing to think. “OK, so maybe I can’t destroy Hell, but I can still destroy any demon that sets so much as a toe on earth.”

“You can” Crowley agreed, “but as I said, there’s no shortage of demons in Hell and without anyone keeping them in line, they’ll continue to be drawn to the land of the living. You’ll be stuck playing an eternal game of whack-a-mole.”

Dean knew that even though right now his bloodlust was up, it wouldn’t be forever. Being a hunter had seemed like enough of a thankless, endless slog some days, he didn’t want to think about having to do it forever. “What are you suggesting?”

Crowley smiled, he was starting to regain a little of his usual smug confidence. “I’m simply proposing that there’s room here for us to negotiate.”

“A negotiation takes place between two parties of equal power. I could squash you like a bug.”

“Maybe, but I do have something you want: control over Hell. You leave me in place as King and I’ll move my court back downstairs where I can keep the flow of demons heading topside to a reasonable level.”

“Not a reasonable level. None” said Dean firmly. “If your control over them is as iron-tight as you claim then you’re going to keep any of them from sneaking up. If not, then there’s no reason for me to keep you alive.”

“You can’t be serious” Crowley complained, “that would mean dismantling my entire business model. You have to at least let me keep the crossroads going.”

“I don’t have to let you do anything. You either agree to stay in your own damn dimension where you belong, or I can kill you right here. And Crowley, if you can’t hold up your end, don’t think you’ll be safe from me in Hell. I’ll hunt you down and feed you to your own hounds.”

Crowley squirmed in his seat, clearly looking for a way out and not finding one. “Deal” he said angrily and vanished in a flash of smoke, running back to Hell with his tail between his legs. 

***

Sam spent hours pacing the halls of the bunker. He had no idea where his brother was, or what kind of reckless shit he was getting up to, and even if he did, he would be powerless to stop it. Better get used to it he thought to himself, you’re always going to be powerless compared to him now. Sam wondered vaguely if this was anything like how Dean had felt the year that Sam had spent sneaking off with Ruby to practice his demon powers. It wasn’t a nice feeling, being left behind. 

When Dean finally did show back up, he was completely unharmed, but even that did little to alleviate Sam’s worries. 

“Where have you been?” Sam demanded, trying his best to channel the tone of parental outrage that their dad might have used. 

“Dealing with the demons” Dean answered as he walked into his room and slammed the door.


	12. Present 6

**Present 6**

“Where are we?” Sam asks, fighting the urge to pull his shirt (which is thankfully no longer Hawaiian) up to cover his nose. 

“Melbourne” Dean answers. 

“Melbourne?” Sam may not keep up to date with all of current events, it becomes easy to fall behind when you’re as old as he is, but it would have been hard to miss hearing about the new bacteria that’s been ravaging Australia for the last couple of months. He looks around him and takes in the overcrowded hospital corridors, filled with dying patients and not nearly enough staff to see to them all. 

“Don’t worry” Dean reassures him, “you’re still immortal for the moment.”

“Why are we here?” Sam asks. He’d be slightly ashamed to admit it out loud, but he desperately wants to leave. The sheer scope of the human suffering that surrounds him hangs almost as heavy in the air as the smell. 

“We’re here for her” Dean says, pointing at a worker in a full anti-contamination suit. 

“Who is she?” Sam asks. 

“She’s a nurse. She moved here from the Philippines three years ago. When she gets off work today, she’s going to head back there to visit her family.” As Dean talks, he moves closer to the busy nurse, who Sam is starting to suspect, can’t see or hear either of them. Nevertheless, when Dean lays his hand briefly on her forehead as though checking her temperature she shivers as though someone has just walked over her grave. “Unfortunately,” Dean continues, “she is now infected.”

“They’ll catch it at the jetport” Sam says, trying to reassure himself, “that’s what the microbial scanners are for.”

“Machines malfunction” Dean replies. 

Sam thinks about what this means and starts to feel sick himself. “Why are you doing this? This will kill thousands of people.”

“Hundreds of thousands” Dean states dispassionately. 

“Then why?”

“Asia’s population growth is out of control; it needs to be dealt with.”

“So, you introduce a new Black Death? A new CoViD? Why can’t you just lower the birth rate or something?”

“I’m Death Sam, I’m not God. I can’t make that kind of change, not on a large enough scale at least.”

Sam shakes his head in disbelief. “I can’t believe you. I can’t believe you would do this. This will rip families apart, destroy entire countries! All the evil we used to fight, Azazel, Lucifer, Crowley, Dick Roman. If you do this, you’re just as bad as any of them.”

“Sam” Dean says, finally looking at him again, “I’ve done it before. I’ve been doing it for over a hundred years. All of that evil you mentioned, we got rid of it, and because of that humanity is thriving. Overpopulation is one of the natural consequences of that. In a way, I created this problem, maybe that’s why I was chosen to be the person to keep it in check.”

“No,” insists Sam. “It was my brother who did those good things. Not you. You’re not him. I lost him.”

“I’m sorry you feel that way” Dean says, turning away and the next time Sam blinks, he opens his eyes to darkness.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Too soon?


	13. Past 7

**Past 7**

After the incident with the demon hunt, Dean started to make a habit of taking off on his own without telling anyone. It didn’t take Sam long to get sick of it.

He looked up one evening to see Dean appear in the library, looking exhausted. Sam hadn’t thought it was even possible for him to get tired anymore. 

“What were you doing this time?” Sam asked setting his book down angrily, “getting fresh coffee from Guatemala?”

“I’ve been hunting, Sam” Dean said. “In the last half hour, I’ve taken out a Chupacabra in Rio, an Oni in Kyoto, and a Werewolf in London. It was easy. Too easy.”

“What?” Sam asked, still feeling more than a little pissed off at being abandoned like a child. “You’re upset because being nigh-omnipotent takes all the fun out of hunting? Dean, think about how many lives you saved.”

“With those three monsters? Forty-six. That’s how many they would have taken out before something else got to each of them. Less than fifty. Meanwhile today 152,032 people will still die, and I could save any of them that I wanted. It’s not the power that takes the fun out of it, it’s the knowledge, knowing how pointless it all is.”

“You don’t mean that” said Sam carefully. “We help people. We’ve saved the world!”

“Yeah, and most of the time we’re also the ones who endangered it in the first place. All we’ve ever really done is chase our own tails and I don’t know if I can do it anymore.”

That was when Sam started to worry. For as long as he could remember, hunting had been Dean’s entire identity. Sam had had big dreams growing up. Depending on the month he might have wanted to be a doctor or a lawyer or an astronaut, but Dean had only ever wanted to hunt. The only thing he had cared about, besides his family, was how many lives he could save. Now he had the ability to save anyone he wanted with barely any effort, but even though he had the ability, he still couldn’t do it. If no one ever died, the Earth’s population would grow and grow, resources would run out, and those in pain would be left to suffer forever. It would be chaos.

Death can’t be a hunter. It just didn’t make sense, but with that taken away from him, Sam didn’t know what Dean was going to do. It didn’t look like Dean knew either.


	14. Present 7

**Present 7**

“I’ll save you the suspense” Dean says as Sam peers around him trying to figure out where on the planet he is now. “This isn’t Earth.” Dean starts forward, walking confidently into the blackness, even though one direction looks exactly like all of the others. 

Sam follows along behind, squinting into the darkness that surrounds them, but it remains impenetrable. “Then, where are we? It doesn’t look like Heaven or Hell.”

Dean actually smiles a little at that. “You know, you and I are the only two humans who would ever be able say something like that and know what we’re talking about.”

“Just me actually” Sam points out, “you haven’t been human in a very long time.”

“Not true. I’m still technically human.”

“You’re Death” Sam points out like it’s the most obvious thing in the world. 

“That’s a job title, not a species. I still have the same body I always did.”

“I don’t know a lot of humans that can kill thousands of people on a whim or fly themselves to wherever the hell this is” Sam maintains. 

“I never said I was normal” Dean answers, “but neither are you. Also, I don’t do anything on a whim. I can’t afford to; the balance is too fragile.”

Sam shakes his head but doesn’t bother arguing further. Besides, he’s distracted by the scene opening up in front of him. Although they haven’t gone through any doors, Sam suddenly finds himself in a room. The effect is surreal, like he’s just walked out of backstage darkness onto a fully realized film set. At the same time, the ratty sofa and piles of books call him back to some of his most distant memories. 

“This looks like Bobby’s house” he observes. 

“It’s my house actually” Dean says, “but I recreated his living room.”

“I would have thought that an all-powerful being would have designed their house with a little more pizzazz” Sam says sarcastically. “Like maybe put in a pool or an arcade.”

“Oh, I have both of those” Dean agrees. “Essentially the entire dimension is my house, so there are a lot of rooms. This is where I come to think.”

“And what is it that you need to think about?” Sam asks. 

“Hopefully, he’s thinking about how he’s going to throw his traitor brother into a volcano” a feminine voice suddenly calls out. 

Sam whirls around to find Tessa standing behind him with her hands on her hips and a death glare in her eyes. Apparently, she fully intends to follow through with that glare because in the next moment Sam feels the air rush out of him as a wave of force throws him across the room. He slams into the ground and finds himself on his ass, struggling just to keep his eyes open as Tessa stalks towards him angrily. 

“Tessa, stand down” Dean orders calmly and she comes to a full and sudden stop.

“Is he controlling you? Is he making you stop me?” she asks. 

“He’s not. We have an agreement.”

Sam is ashamed to realize in that moment that with everything going on he’d sort of forgotten that he could be controlling Dean. He could have stopped him from sending that disease into Asia, but he didn’t. Maybe in some ways that makes him responsible too. 

“You have an agreement to let him chain you up like a dog?” Tessa demands. 

“We’re spending the day together” Dean explains, “after that, Sam and I will go our separate ways.”

Tessa glares at them both like she’d like to smack their heads together but then apparently decides that between the two of them Sam will be the easier target. “If you hurt him . . .” she threatens, and Sam can’t help but be amused that she feels the need to defend one of the most powerful beings in the universe. 

“Anything to report?” Dean asks and Tessa practically snaps to attention. 

“Nothing out of the ordinary. You’re keeping us busy in Australia, but there’s been no abnormalities with operations.”

“Good” answers Dean. “Kipling was on Earth today; I half expected him to try to pull something.”

“It seems like he might be smarter than Crowley’s last ambassador” Tessa speculates. “He seems to have managed to keep his hands out of the cookie jar.”

“Okay. I’ll see you tomorrow then.”

“Are you sure you don’t want me to stick around?” she asks and the look she gives Dean makes Sam wonder if all of the reapers are allowed to come and go from his house, or just her. 

“We’ll talk tomorrow” Dean says gently. 

Tessa disappears with a frown. 

“What are we doing here Dean?” Sam asks as his brother plops himself down on the replica of Bobby’s ratty old sofa. 

“I told you, I come here to think” Dean answers. Then he grabs a remote from somewhere and flips on the ancient looking TV.

Sam stands in place, not sure what to think. One minute he’s dealing with an ice-cold primordial entity that can kill thousands of people without batting an eyelid, and the next he’s watching his brother flip through channels with his feet up on the table, a scene that couldn’t be more familiar. 

Speaking of the TV . . . “Is that Lethal Weapon?” Sam asks, noticing that Dean seems to have settled on a channel. 

“Yeah. The original, not one of the twenty something sequels, spinoffs, or remakes they’ve churned out over the decades. 

Sam stares at the slightly fuzzy image on the screen. “You know they converted it to 3D years ago. It’s much better quality.”

“Let me have my nostalgia, Sam” Dean admonishes. 

Sam stands still for a few more moments, trying not to let himself fall into the trap of imaging that he’s back in the days when the two of them were kids and they would watch movies at Bobby’s. Then he joins his brother on the sofa.


	15. Past 8

**Past 8**

It wasn’t long before Dean started to be gone more than he was actually there. When Sam woke up most mornings, he was alone in the bunker and the long halls that never bothered him before suddenly seemed to echo with emptiness. This place was built to house dozens of people and somehow the two of them had filled it, but with just Sam by himself, the blank spaces seemed to be eating him alive. 

When Dean finally did show up again, Sam wasn’t even really surprised that it was only to say goodbye. 

“I can’t do it Sam” his brother explained apologetically. “I wish I could stay here with you, but I can’t just pretend that things are the same now, that I haven’t changed. I have responsibilities now.”

_What about me?_ Sam wanted to ask but didn’t. _Didn’t you always insist that **I** was your responsibility?_

“I’m sorry Sam, but I know you’ll have a good life. Heck, you can have as many lives as you want. I just won’t be around for them.”

After Dean disappeared for the last time Sam cried himself to sleep and spent the next week angrily pacing around the bunker yelling at the sky, hoping that his brother could hear him. This wasn’t like all of the other times he’s lost Dean. Then, it had always been something beyond their control, but this time, Dean chose to leave him, which meant that this time, there really was no getting him back. After months spent cycling through all five stages of grief, Sam picked himself up and moved on.


	16. Present 8

**Present 8**

After the movie is done, Dean gets up off the sofa and looks at Sam expectantly. “Come on. We need to get going.”

“Should I even bother to ask where we’re going?” 

“One last errand to run today, Sam. Then you’re in the clear.” 

Sam hauls himself up wearily and the moment he does, he’s transported through space once again. This time, he’s on a beach. Around him, happy families are spread out on picnic blankets and beach towels, the classic vacation scene repeated over and over again, stretching into the horizon. Overhead, the sun beats down and, in the waves, children are running around splashing each other and laughing hysterically. 

Except one of those children has ventured further out and is now struggling against the stronger currents. Sam looks around for a lifeguard or parents or anyone about to help but no one else seems to have noticed. He starts to toe off his boots, getting ready to go in himself, but Dean stops him. 

“Just wait, Sam” his brother says calmly. 

Sam shoots Dean a glare, about to tell him to go screw himself. Sam isn’t about to stand by and watch a child drown, but before he can do anything a large wave comes out of nowhere and the struggling boy disappears underneath of it. Sam gasps in shocked horror, thinking he’s just seen another person die, but when the wave recedes, he sees that it’s pushed the boy back into the shallows, where he’s now sitting on the sand, spluttering a little but otherwise unharmed. Now, finally, a parent seems to have noticed and the boy is scooped up and rushed to safety. 

“I don’t understand” Sam says. “Did you do that?”

“Yes” Dean answers, still staring out at the sea. 

“But why?”

“That boy was supposed to die today. Now he won’t.”

“Isn’t that against your whole MO?”

“It is” Dean agrees “that’s why I can only do it for a few, and only for the ones that won’t have too many long-term consequences, but once a day, I pick someone, and I save them. I guess it’s sort of like my gift to myself. It helps keep me sane.”

Sam looks at Dean for a long moment, searching his face for some trace of emotion, a hint of the expressive passion that those features used to contain. After a while, he almost thinks he sees it, a slight tightening of the eyes that Dean used to get whenever they were too late to save a victim on a hunt. He has to admit though, that it’s equally as likely that he’s imaging it. 

“Why did you really bring me along with you today, Dean?” he asks. 

“I was stalling.” 

“What?” Sam asks, startled by the frank admission. 

“I don’t like the thought of letting you go. I guess I just assumed that you’d always be there.”

“You never even came to see me!” 

“I got busy” Dean shrugs. “It was nice though, knowing that you were out there somewhere.”

“Can’t you come visit me in Heaven or something?” Sam asks, trying to be conciliatory. 

“No. Most of the Angels still don’t like me very much. We have an agreement. I stay out of Heaven and they stay away from Earth.”

Sam thinks about what that means. As one of the few humans with actual knowledge of the afterlife, he’s always had the rare privilege of knowing that someday he’d get to see his loved one’s again, if he could shake off his annoying immortality that is. They may not know for sure, but billions of humans have the same hope. Not Dean though, not only can he not die, but he’s also literally banned from Heaven. If the people he loves go there, he can never see them again. For a moment, Sam almost changes his mind about leaving, but then he thinks of his kids. They’ve been waiting for him for far too long. 

“I’m sorry” he says, “but I have to go.” 

“I know” says Dean, then he reaches over and places his hand briefly on Sam’s shoulder. 

Sam doesn’t feel any pain but there is the sensation of something falling away from him and when he turns around to look, he sees his body lying quietly on the beach. 

“Congratulations Sam. You’re dead.” 

Sam looks at his brother and sees a silver chain wrapped loosely around his wrists, that now appears to be disintegrating. The binding spell has been broken by the death of the caster. 

“Ready for one last trip little brother” Dean asks with a decent approximation of his old grin. 

“But I thought you couldn’t come with me?”

“I can’t but I’ll get you to the door.”

“Then let’s go” Sam says, expecting Dean to teleport them again but instead Dean puts his fingers to his mouth and whistles like he’s calling a dog. Suddenly, right in front of them, sitting improbably on the sand, is the Impala. Sure, she’s pale now instead of coal black but the fact that she’s changed doesn’t make her any less the Impala. 

Sam gets in the passenger side door, savouring the familiar squeak of the hinges. Dean takes his old position to Sam’s left and revs the engine. They were off. 

End.


End file.
